The One That Loved {Book Three in 'The One' Series}

Chapter One ~ A world where lightening scars are normal and divorce isn't

Chapter One

A World Where Lightening Scars are Normal and Divorce isn’t

 

            The scarlet steam engine puffed out fog, making it hard for Syrie Potter to navigate her way through the crowd and find her father and siblings. Her mother trailed behind her, silvery-grey eyes sharp and narrowed; she had accompanied Syrie to the station every time for the past five years, and it had never not been uncomfortable.

“Syrie, maybe you should just get on the train.” Adalyn grumbled, annoyed still that her daughter insisted on seeing her father before boarding.

“I will not!” countered Syrie, frowning “I’m going to see Dad before I leave. Besides, its James’ first year and Teddy and I promised to help him.”

Brushing her short dark curls out of her eyes Adalyn sighed; seeing Syrie off would never be the way she imagined it, never. The wild fantasies she’d had before Syrie met Harry would never be true; she would never hold Harry’s hand again, or brush his scar gently with her fingertips or say the vows tying them together. It was just a dream, a silly, unrealistic dream. But then again, she’d barely thought of him like that since he married Ginny, and she later married George. “Fine, but I’m not talking to the ginger.”

Syrie snorted “Which one?”

Shooting her daughter a look, Adalyn pulled Syrie into a hug and mumbled into her long, black locks “You know perfectly well which one, Syrius Lucinda Black.”

“Potter, mamma.” Pulling away, Syrie pushed her frustration back to its corner “I am Syrie Black-Potter, and you can not change that.”

“I know, I know.” When Syrie was ten, she asked to have both her parents’ names. Harry had supported her, while Adalyn had refused. Unfortunately for her, Syrie now had her father’s name. On the roll call, she was Syrie Potter. On letters, she was Syrie Potter. When teachers called on her, it was Ms. Potter. Adalyn never regretted introducing Syrie to Harry, but she wished that Syrie loved her father a little less-but that was not the case; Syrie loved her father with all her heart and more, along with his wife and children.

“Look, there they are!” pushing through the crowd, Syrie walked straight into Harry’s open arms.

“Hey sweetie,” Harry said, giving her a kiss on the cheek “Have a good last week of summer?”

Shrugging, Syrie wanted to tell her father about the on going arguments between Adalyn and her, but she kept her mouth shut. The trouble between Syrie and her mother was something Harry didn’t need to know about-especially when things were so tense already.

“It was fine.” She said, holding onto him for a few seconds longer, breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“Good, now, let me get your bag so you aren’t late.” Harry smiled at his daughter and tugged on her long, straight pony tail. Syrie had inherited equal amounts of her parent’s good and bad qualities, but her features were most definitely Harry’s; her eyes were the same startling green and almond shaped, her face thin and skin pale, with long, straight black hair. She was short for her age, but Harry assured her she would grow still-he had, and so far she was like him in almost every way.